


Firsts

by ladymacbethsspot



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Dancing, M/M, yes both in one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 20:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymacbethsspot/pseuds/ladymacbethsspot
Summary: Porco and Reiner are forced to dance at an awards ceremony, leading to an important realization for Porco.Later, Reiner and Porco get a second chance to dance...





	Firsts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yellowhunk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowhunk/gifts).



> Written for the 2018 Holiday Gallirei Exchange for Yellowhunk! I had a lot of fun being a part of this and I hope you enjoy it!

It was going to be one of those endless days that wormed itself under Porco’s skin and itched in that tauntingly unreachable way as it dragged on. Even worse, he knew it the second he awoke in the barracks. The ceiling above was blank, and he tried to make his thoughts that way too. Tried to be still, to be quiet, to fight down the irritation that was already rising at the thought of the day ahead.

The dreaded dog and pony show- he’d been to them before, put on the dress uniform, slicked his hair down with extra water and a little pomade he’d traded for, shined his boots until they were mirror-black. And he’d lived- in comparison with his life as a Warrior of Marley, it was nothing.

That didn’t mean he enjoyed it.

No one could enjoy being shown off and paraded around at this kind of party, not when they knew why they were there, not when they knew the cost: all the people they’d killed, all the destruction they’d caused. Warrior. Lies. Heroes. Bullshit.

But Porco was too cowardly to do anything about it, and he couldn’t think of anything to do anyway. It was easier not to think, so he heaved himself off the cot as springs squeaked. He dressed in the cold, quiet room, ignoring the other soldiers sleeping, stirring, rolling over. As he left the room to head to breakfast he passed Reiner’s cot. The other man was still asleep, and Porco leaned down, slapping him on the shoulder.

“Get up,” He said.

Reiner made a grumbling noise, turning away but beginning to rouse. Blinking and yawning, he looked up at Porco with bleary eyes. “Huh?”

“Big day.” It was impossible to keep the bitterness from his voice, but Porco knew Reiner wouldn’t care anyway.

“Oh…” Reiner must have remembered all at once. He rolled away from Porco, clutching his thin blanket and tugging it higher over his shoulder. Porco shook his head, giving up on his comrade in favor of oatmeal that would still be warm if he hurried.

* * *

 

Preparations for the party, the _award ceremony_ , took all day. They joined the other soldiers, moving chairs and readying the venue. They were shuffled from general to general with an ever-expanding list of how to behave, who to speak to, what to say about the grand Marleyan nation, what not to mention about the most recent battles, and endless other details that made Porco’s head swim. All he could do was nod and stand quietly, prodding Falco in the back every time the poor kid started to space out. There was barely enough time to get themselves ready, and even then, there was too much to do. Porco washed himself from head to foot, getting Pieck to trim his hair as he made sure his dress uniform was in perfect condition. The jacket was a little too tight in the shoulders, it had probably been a year since he’d worn it last, but there was nothing that could be done on such short notice.

When he’d finally gotten it all on he felt like a pork sausage stuffed into a too-small casing. He looked in the mirror. At least it wasn’t khaki, he thought, tugging the jacket down a little and straightening its cuffs. A line of shiny silver buttons trailed down from the short stand-up collar to near his waist where the navy-blue jacket was belted. The collar and cuffs were trimmed in yellow, a matching yellow line of piping going down the outside of each leg of his pants. His boots were mostly hidden by the straight, slim-cut leg of the pants, and what did show looked almost like a gentleman’s shoes. But Porco didn’t know any gentleman who wore an armband over his uniform, and he didn’t know any gentleman with the same star as what he wore on his collar. He smoothed his hair down one last time in the mirror, trying to tame a few reddish strands that kept escaping at the front.

He was squinting into the mirror, frowning intently at himself, willing his hair to be less red, his jacket to be larger, his fake stony expression to be more intimidating, and on and on when the door to the barracks opened and Pieck slid in.

“Pock, there you are” she breathed, her quiet voice as breathy as ever.

“Don’t call me that,” the terse response was automatic, and Porco said it with such pent-up frustration that he immediately regretted it.

“Zeke has something to tell us,” she answered, sleepy eyes just sliding away from him as though she hadn’t noticed his tone at all. “He’s waiting, let’s go.”

Porco nodded. It wasn’t a good idea to keep the Warrior Captain waiting, and it’s not as though the day could possibly get any more tedious.

* * *

 

Porco had been wrong.

It was, in fact, very possible for the day to become infinitely more awful, he realized.

Zeke stood calmly by the gramophone. He’d cranked its handle for a few minutes while the situation had sunk in, and now the moment of judgment arrived as he gently placed a record on the turntable and lowered the needle. It touched down on the spinning vinyl record, and music flowed from the upturned trumpet into the room.

Porco crossed his arms and stared at the ground. This wasn’t just a dog and pony show- it was more, it was worse. It was a dancing monkey show, and _he_ was expected to be one of the monkeys. All the Warriors, all the poor little candidates even, there was going to be a formal waltz that night and Zeke had informed them they were expected to lead it.

Zeke held out his hand to Pieck, taking hers and beginning to guide her into the steps of the dance as he explained them to everyone else. They looked simple: legs shoulder width apart- left foot forward- right foot forward- pull the left to the right- right foot back- left foot back- pull the right to the left. Zeke traced out a box with his feet, never crossing over, and Pieck stumbled over his shoes for a few repeats before getting the hang of it. It looked easy. Porco was sure he was capable of something so simple, but it wasn’t the difficulty of the dance that made him grit his teeth and seethe.

He'd be doing this in front of a crowd, countless onlookers watching, waiting for any mistake, judging his every movement. Even worse, there was only one Pieck. Zeke didn’t have to say it- he’d be dancing with Reiner. There was no other partner. What luck. Well, if that was going to be the case, he sure as hell planned to lead.

He turned to Reiner. He held out his left hand. Reiner stared at it, then at him, then back at Zeke stiffly tugging Pieck around in endless squares.

“Come on,” Porco growled, motioning with his outstretched hand, “Let’s get this over with.”

With a sigh, Reiner placed his hand in Porco’s. “Alright,” he agreed. Torn between a flicker of disgust and a twinge of gratitude at his comrade’s lack of resistance, Porco fit his other hand under the man’s shoulder, doing his best not to grimace as he began the dance. It was awkward at first, Reiner kept stepping forward, both trying to lead, as they bumped chests and stepped on each other’s toes. Pushing seemed to work, and Porco steered Reiner as best he could while keeping track of his feet and biting his tongue when Reiner came down hard on the big toe of his left foot.

“Ouch, dammit, you damn rhino,” Porco muttered as his toe throbbed under Reiner’s boot.

The subdued, “Sorry,” and the look of unreadable distance in Reiner’s eyes was enough to make Porco swallow his anger. This was no time to belittle Reiner, as much as he wanted to. They were both forced into this stupid display, and the kids were watching- they had to set a good example. Besides, Porco admitted to himself, Reiner was being a good sport about it all. It was impossible to fault him for that.

After that the steps got easier. Their feet found the right places, and they looked down less and less. Zeke had stopped dancing with Pieck and was arranging Gabi, Falco, Udo, and Zofia into pairs and walking them through the steps as Colt practiced with Pieck. Glad that the focus was off them, Porco felt his shoulders relax.

* * *

 

That night at the award ceremony they repeated their performance, much improved. Reiner wasn’t nearly as bad of a dancer as he’d first seemed, something that Porco had to grudgingly admit he wasn’t that surprised by. After all, Reiner had proved in the past year or more that he wasn’t the same useless kid Porco had disparaged in their boyhood. No, Reiner was tall, he was decently strong, he held his own in battle and they’d saved each other more times than Porco cared to count. If nothing else, their many years of training had made them both coordinated enough to pick up a simple dance.

As they passed under the bright lights above, the crowded ballroom’s eyes turned to them, Porco couldn’t help but appreciate how well they danced together. They read each other easily, Reiner following Porco’s steps almost before he’d made them, anticipating and matching each move through the complicated path they weaved over the floor.

Porco had thought they must look ridiculous, done up in fancy uniforms, groomed to within an inch of their lives. But, as he looked up at Reiner, the crowd retreated to little more than a low background of colors and sounds. Light shone in his blonde hair, turning it to a field of gold. It lit his eyes as they turned, and Porco caught hints of amber and green. Reiner looked far from ridiculous- he looked damn handsome. Broad shouldered, his beard freshly trimmed, the dress uniform flattered his powerful frame. He looked confident and strong, the uniform’s details lending a smart charm to his sure movements.

As he stared, Porco wondered. He’d always been hard on Reiner, it was a natural byproduct of being pitted against each other in their youth. But Reiner did not complain. He took it. He took everything. He’d faced Porco’s rage, he’d weathered Porco’s insults, he’d even acquiesced to dance a woman’s part without protest. It used to be the kind of thing that would make Porco angry, but, as the world shrunk, and the music grew sweeter, thrumming in his veins, ringing in his ears, it didn’t make him angry anymore.

It made him sad.

Reiner took everything, and he accepted it. As much as Porco wanted to hate him, he couldn’t. He’d spent far too long trying to hate this man.

In a world where they were little more than monsters, tainted by inherited blood they’d never asked for, he’d spent so much time and energy pushing away the very person he should keep close.

His fingers gripped Reiner’s shoulder tighter.

It was solid, comforting under his grip.

And Porco knew he wouldn’t let go.

* * *

* * *

 

 

Reiner didn’t remember until it was too late. When he woke up in the hospital after the car crash, his arm in a cast and his neck in a brace, his entire body one huge bruise, it was too late. There was nothing he could do this time either, and his best friend Bertolt was gone.

Again.

It took a long time to recover, and even longer to grieve, especially when Reiner was grieving for a second time. In moments of complete terror, when the semi-truck’s headlights had shone in his eyes and filled his vision, he’d seen his life flash before his eyes. And he’d seen another life too, one he knew had come before. It had been familiar but strange, people he’d grown up with, gone to school with, people he knew better than he’d thought possible, but reflected as some strange mirror-version of themselves.

Coming to terms with the burden of the memories, the terrifying rush that threatened to swallow him whole at night when it washed through his dreams, twisting them with fear, was a task Reiner took as his punishment for his failures. Last time, this time, he’d done a lot he regretted.

These things lingered as a haze in Reiner’s mind long after the bruises faded to nothing. They lasted for months, casting a shadow over everything, lurking in the corners as he went through the motions. Work, eat, errands, chores, weekend, repeat. It became automatic, so that he didn’t have to think. The break that came with the holiday season was one he didn’t even have enough energy to dread. Travelling home to stay with his mother, knowing more than he’d ever cared to, was something he faced with growing uneasiness.

But when his mother welcomed him home the nervousness faded to a bearable level. She was the woman he remembered, urging him to have another cookie in their small, warm kitchen as she prepared endless dishes for their family celebration. His mom was tough, but loving, and good like the cookies she baked. Reiner resolved to not let his memories poison this little circle of warmth. That life was past. He might not have been able to appreciate Bert the way his friend deserved, but he had been given a second chance with everyone else.

This time, Reiner wouldn’t waste it.

As the holiday went on Reiner thought about contacting his friends. He wondered if they remembered too- if the people he’d grown up with twice: Pieck, Annie, Zeke, Marcel, and Porco had kept any recollection of their earlier shared nightmare. There was no way to find out other than to ask, but the prospect of it was both exciting and terrifying. Exciting, because it would bring them even closer, give him someone to talk to, perhaps allow him some comfort, but terrifying just the same. If they remembered it would make the whole thing even more real, and Reiner wasn’t sure he was ready for it. Each time he built up his confidence in his mind he lost it thinking about the endless possibilities, and the messages he typed into his phone were deleted, letter by letter, before he could ever hit ‘send’.

His family’s Christmas was a warm affair. An aunt and uncle, the Braun grandparents, cousin Gabi. They ate and talked and laughed and Reiner let the closeness cheer him. Turkey and presents, cookies and a fire in the fireplace afterwards as lazy snowflakes drifted down in the dark. Gabi was almost done with high school, and Reiner could tell she couldn’t wait to leave. He’d felt the same way at that age. Even now, home didn’t really feel like home. As he watched his mother and grandparents pile a million questions on her- ‘where do you want to go to college?’, ‘what will you study?’, ‘how is your boyfriend, Falco?’- and observed her increasing excitement, he couldn’t help but smile.

This was what Gabi deserved, what they all deserved- a life where they could make their own choices and follow their own dreams.

Gabi didn’t remember, and it was for the best. If his other friends were the same way, he didn’t want to bring it up. What if his appearance, some factor he couldn’t control, something he might mention accidentally, what if it triggered the memories to come back? Watching his cousin chat excitedly, her eyes sparkling when she talked about all the places she wanted to go and all the things she was going to do, he couldn’t bear to have it taken from her.

He shouldn’t contact his friends. He didn’t want them to lose this gift.

With Christmas over the house grew quiet and it was just him and his mom once again. He went on walks, he did some shopping, he cooked and ate with his mother, doing what he could for her and trying to relax. The cold days wore on him though, and the time away from work made him more anxious than he’d like to admit. There wasn’t enough distraction from his thoughts here.

On New Year’s Even his mother asked him if he had plans. She wondered if he was going to meet up with friends from high school, they had in years past. Reiner shook his head, but he didn’t elaborate. Still, it was a terribly lonely thing to spend the night at home, to miss out when he knew other people were having a wild time, to go to bed before midnight, and after dinner Reiner got in the car anyway and drove into the city. This way at least he could have a drink or two, enjoy some music at a club, maybe see fireworks. He could be alone among the crowd.

The club was hazy and loud, music already pounding in Reiner’s skull after only one drink. Purple lights lit the bar, rows of bottles glowing on the shelves, the taps shining chrome with lines of reflected neon picking out their edges. Dance music, nothing Reiner recognized, but the steady beat and flashing lights made his blood run quicker, pulling him out of his funk as he let the music wash over him. He joined the crush of bodies, the low-ceilinged room warm from people dancing, breathing, pressing close to one another.

Reiner danced with them, finding and losing partners, not needing to use words in the loud space- looks and nods were enough, the brush of a hand or a hip and the reactions he read on faces lit in flashes and sweeps of light that told him who wanted to dance next. His inhibitions fell away with the music, and it was harder to feel bad for himself when the songs strung together so well, when the DJ called out over the crowd on his microphone, and when his hands went up into the air involuntarily, the energy of the mass of people fueling it.

Sweating a little under the lights, Reiner squeezed his way back to the bar for another drink now that he was really getting into the swing of the party atmosphere. He felt like a ninja, or spy, sneaking around knowing no one, meeting mysterious strangers, enjoying the detachment of it all, the total lack of consequence. As he stepped up to the bar, holding up a hand to get the attention of the bartender, he heard a voice that made him pause.

“Reiner.”

He knew that voice. It was unmistakable.

He turned.

He stared.

Leaning on the bar, a plastic cup of something dark in his hand, stood Porco. He wore jeans, a plain V-neck t-shirt, and a short sporty jacket whose folds shone under the bar lights. He still slicked his hair back, just like he had in high school, just like he had in that life before.

“Porco?” Reiner replied, unable to figure out what else to say.

“No shit,” Porco responded with a nod, stepping closer until he stood in front of Reiner. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Didn’t know you were in town.” It wasn’t an accusation or a question, and some of the tightness in Reiner’s throat that had accompanied the surprise melted away.

“Yeah,” Reiner agreed.

“Want something to drink? I’ll get it.” Porco held up his own drink, sloshing it around, freeing tiny bubbles from the plastic ridges inside that rushed to the liquid’s surface.

“Sure,” Reiner agreed. It was the right thing to say. He couldn’t refuse his friend.

“What’re you having?”

“I’ll take a shot. Vodka’s good.”

Porco’s eyebrows went up, but he just nodded. “Alright, sure thing,” he muttered, and tipped back the rest of his drink in one long gulp. He ordered two shots, one for each of them, some kind of vodka Reiner couldn’t pronounce and hadn’t tried, probably something good. For a moment Reiner just looked at his shot glass, thinking it was too nice to waste this way. Before he could voice his thoughts, Porco answered them unprompted.

“We deserve it. It’s New Year. Live a little, Reiner.”

Reiner nodded, and they clicked the shot glasses together, careful not to spill a single drop. Tipping the vodka back, Reiner let it burn down his throat, licking warmth through him, lighting his belly and his muscles. It was New Year. He did deserve this.

He was going to have a good New Year.

_Live a little._

Reiner wanted to dance.

“Hey, Porco,” he began, not entirely sure this was something his friend would agree to, but not caring much either way, “want to dance?”

Miraculously, Porco agreed.

They plunged into the crush of bodies, becoming one with it until they weaved their way to the center of its beating heart. On every side people pressed in, the music melding them all together, colored lights in the dark club playing with their vision. Red fell on bare arms, green sweeping over faces and shining across a woman’s long hair, white bursts pulsing with the music.

Reiner danced, and Porco did too. At first, they danced apart, together only in proximity, keeping space between them- friends enjoying a song or two. But as the heat in Reiner’s belly spread, as the lights flashed over Porco’s face and hair, as he noticed the sheen of sweat on his friend’s neck and the way the muscles moved under his skin, they grew closer. Their shoulders touched, Porco’s fingers passing by Reiner’s chest, grazing it in a movement that could have been accidental. It could have been, but Reiner didn’t want it to be.

For a second Reiner wondered if they’d ever danced like this before, if they’d ever let go of themselves. They’d always been close, they’d weathered more storms than he could count, even now talking with Porco, dancing with him, it felt natural. It felt right. They had danced before. Once, in that past life, they had moved like this, in synch, together. Dress uniforms, navy and starched, a dance they hadn’t chosen, one they’d performed for everyone else. But they’d made the waltz their own, he remembered that too. It was right then, and it was even more right now. This time they’d chosen the dance, and no one was watching.

If their hips or hands brushed, it wasn’t something to pull away from, but something to lean into, something to savor that sent a thrill of excitement through him, that made him crowd closer, that made him want more. Porco didn’t pull away, his eyes burned into Reiner’s skin, and the heat grew between them, everyone else in the club fading.

The music didn’t matter. The sound, the lights, the other people all receded. Porco was here, and he asked for nothing, he demanded no part of Reiner, he voiced no expectations. Only their bodies, rubbing together, heating each other, awakening Reiner to things he hadn’t allowed himself to consider.

Why had he been so afraid of this?

As the bass pounded through his blood, he watched Porco move closer. A hand reached up, grabbing the collar of his sweater, pulling his head down.

Porco’s mouth met his.

Eyes closed, lips soft, his kiss was insistent, hungry.

In that moment, Reiner’s thoughts went silent. His body took over, arms wrapping around Porco’s back, pulling him in, eyes closing to the kiss as his mouth opened. As their bodies and lips pressed together a tightness grew in his groin.

And the music continued.

And they danced, rubbing against each other, kissing in the dark, clinging to something solid in a sea of music, desperate for each other.

When Porco pulled away, his breath heaving, Reiner felt just as hot and aroused as the blush darkening his companion’s cheeks.

“Sorry,” Porco muttered, looking away, “About everything. I mean - nevermind.”

“What?” Reiner prompted, unsure what the apology was meant for.

Porco looked at him, his eyes sharp, studying Reiner’s face carefully.

“You should grow a beard again,” he commented in an off-hand way, thinking aloud as he searched Reiner’s face.

Reiner froze.

_Again._

He didn’t have a beard now.

In this life he never had.

Porco… knew.

And the world hadn’t ended.

This was his second chance.

He let out a long breath, a weight lifting from his chest as the blood sang in his veins. He grabbed Porco’s shoulders, pushing their faces together, bumping noses with his before turning his head to find how they fit together. This time he kissed Porco, licked his lips until Porco’s mouth opened, kissed him deep, every part of his body thrilling with it.

Porco remembered. And it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter one bit. This was right.

When their kiss broke he looked at Porco’s stunned face and nodded.

“Maybe I will, Porco. This time, I’ll do it for you.”


End file.
